My dusty wasteland

Music in my head: The Mars Volta - Eriatarka
Today's weather: Dusty, windy, guess where?

If you book a prepaid taxi
To go to the railway station,
Cater for some extra change,
For rest and relaxation.
A man grabbed the ticket
Right out of my clenched fist,
Then he rolled my trolley on
Towards a man with a list
Of taxis that were idling,
Waiting for someone
To get onto the rickety machine
So they could have some fun.
I gave the trolley pusher
Twenty Indian Rupees.
I felt like Shantaram then,
He beamed and pocketed his fees.
Onto the taxi ride then,
It's lucky I didn't end up dead,
As the driver pulled a Rajini
With his hands behind his head.
High speed turns he negotiated
With a sudden flick of his hand.
I was beyond relieved when he
Pulled into the Station's taxi stand.
"Driver tip", he asked audaciously,
I pulled out ten rupees this time.
He stared at the tenner for a while,
Then at me, with contempt, the slime.
I just walked towards the platform,
My train for Trichy was at ten.
It was just eight o'clock,
I didn't know what to do till then.,
Until I found a waiting room,
Which had a power supply, hurray!
So I powered on my computer,
And replied to e-mails I received today,
Then fooled around on Facebook,
Until the train came around.
I got my ticket checked an then
In the thambi rhythm, I was drowned.